Tiger Stripes and Lightening Strikes

27: Recovery

Sebastian was seated in the pitch black. Only the weak and yellow rays of the city street lamp bled in through his tattered blinds. He was lying on the floor of his tiny living room, a blanket pulled over his hips. The cold floor pressed up on the bones in his back. He was staring into the shadows, silently watching as they morphed and shifted before his very eyes. Within them were monsters with glowing eyes.

Mason had been the first to fall asleep on the furthest couch. His breaths came out in heavy and strong whooshes. Santana was lying down on the only other couch, and from her soft sniffles, Sebastian could tell she was wide awake. His shirt was still wet from where she'd been crying on him. Perhaps he should have been unnerved, that the people beside him were potentially murderers, but there was no fear. Not even a buzz of nervousness. When he though of the people beside him, he didn't think of malice. It was more of a dull warmth. Siblings in arms. They were going through this together. He might not completely understand their struggles, but he'd do his best for them.

"Sebastian?" Santana's soft voice whispered into the dark. He gave out a low rumble of acknowledgement. "What are we going to do?" The quiver of uncertainty made her voice a stranger to him. He'd never heard her like this.

"The only thing we can do," he mumbled. "Keep going."

"How?" was the quiet response.

Sebastian blew out a long breath, running a hand back through his hair. "I say we find out if you really are a chimera," he whispered.

"What?" her voice rose. Mason shifted and both of them went rock still. It wasn't long until he settled down and the soft snores resumed.

"It sounds crazy, I know," he hummed. "But there is no point in you getting this upset if we don't actually know that you are the beast that murdered your grandfather."

*

Barry took his time explaining everything that was happening to his father, and Henry listened faithfully without passing comment once. His eyes remained locked on his son, occasionally flicking to Joe, or Caitlin, or Cisco, who were also seated around the bed. They chipped in with the odd remark, but it was mostly just Barry explaining away everything that had happened with the Chimeras, Diddy and Jason Mort. Perhaps the only part he left out was Sebastian himself. That, was a conversation best had when they were alone.

Somehow, Henry didn't scoff or startle. There was no disbelief in his steadfast stare. They hadn't been certain, what kind of person would be behind the wheel when Henry awoke, but Barry could see without a shadow of a doubt that this was the steady rock he'd known his whole life. This was his dad.

When Barry had finished his rambling monologue, Henry was silent for a moment. His stare glossed as he took everything in, processed and stored it, because that's the kind of man he was. Logical. Stable. In control.

When he was ready to talk more, a simple nod was all he needed to do. "It sounds like you've had your work cut out for you, slugger," Henry hummed. Warmth burst like a summer flower blossoming in his chest. That nick name, gosh, he'd missed that nick name.

"What do you remember?" Barry asked gently.

Henry's eyes squinted, and he scratched at his chin. "Dying," he hummed. Barry's heart was crushed like someone had stomped on his chest. "Beyond that is a little hazy," his eyes narrowed. "I was somewhere with no windows and a lot of lab equipment." He scratched the back of his head, the wheels turning behind his eyes. "There was a man there, but I never saw more than a glimpse." His lips pressed into a thin line. "It smelled damp... I think it might of been in the sewers."

"The sewers is as good a place as any to hide a secret lab," Cisco nodded. He shuddered. "Villains and their sewers."

"Alright, come on," Caitlin pushed herself to her feet and motioned for Cisco to leave the room with her. "Let's go and scan sewer schematics for any place there could be a secret lab."

"Fun," he groaned, following her out.

"At least you're not wading through it again," she retorted, their voices fading as they walked away.

Joe stood from the cabinet to follow them, but Barry's hand shot out and gripped his forearm tight. Joe peered down at him, arching a single brow. "I think there's still something we have to tell my dad," Barry told him firmly.

Joe's eyes widened, flicking between the two Allens. "He just woke up, Bar," Joe shook his head. "Don't you think you should give him time to recuperate?"

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," Henry assured the pair. Joe's face crumbled like he was pulled apart from two different sides.

"He has a right to know," Barry pressed. Joe let out a long breath, sitting down in a freshly vacated chair and crossing his arms over. Barry turned to his father, who was watching him with calm anticipation. "It's... Sebastian." The mere mention of the boy shattered Henry's revere like a rock to a window. "He is in Central City."

Henry leaned forwards, his brows furrowing as if this was the most obscure thing he'd been told since waking up. "The little cub is here?" he asked. Barry nodded softly. "Why? Shouldn't he be at school?"

Joe and Barry traded a long stare. This was it. This was the last moment they had to back out. This was the last time they could chose to preserve Henry's emotions, but that wouldn't be fair. "Smythe was killed by one of the chimeras before we could save him," Joe explained. "Sebastian left school and moved to Central City."

"To be with you?" Henry guessed, lines of doubt wrinkling his forehead. It seems even he knew the answer to that question.

"We don't really know why he moved here," Barry shook his head. "He's living on his own, and he's been pretty clear he doesn't want us snooping around in his life." Barry was crushed with the sudden memory of his last conversation with Sebastian. It hit him so hard he was breathless.

"Why wouldn't you be able to tell me this," Henry chuckled, casting his eye between them. Joe's eyes dropped to the floor. It seemed Barry would be on his own for this part of the conversation.

"Well, that's not all there is," Barry cleared his throat. Henry's brows furrowed. "Smythe was thrown in prison a few months before he died." Henry's eyes narrowed. "He tried to kill Sebastian."

Henry's face drained of colour and for half a second, Barry thought he'd returned to the grave. "He what?" Henry snapped. Barry's heart spiked. The anger in his fathers tone was so alien to him it rose the hairs on the back of his neck. "Is Sebastian alright?"

"He's fine now," Joe soothed the man's rage.

"Smythe tried to kill him, and you left him to his own devices in a foreign city?" Henry's tone held ice.

"We've tried to speak with him multiple times, but he isn't interested," Barry explained. "He doesn't want anything to do with us anymore." Henry rubbed at his forehead, closing over his eyes. Barry knew that look. He'd seen it when Henry was driving and somebody cut him off. He was curbing his frustration.

"We need to do something," Henry sighed.

"And we will," Barry swore.